Last Night
by WildMeiLing
Summary: My take on how the princes felt about the relationship between their mother and Joe. Kind of sweet, but sadness to come is implied. Just so you know.


_More characters who don't belong to me. This story was sort of haunting me, and I had to get it out and share._

* * *

Philippe heard the soft murmur of voices as he approached the library. The conversation was too quiet for him to identify the room's inhabitants. It didn't matter, he knew it would be the queen and her bodyguard. His mother and Joe. He smiled to himself and slowed his footsteps. He was sneaky, but Joe was always on alert. It was unlikely he would catch them off their guard. He stepped lightly anyway, and stopped just short of the doorway.

The door was ajar, letting warm lamplight escape into the hallway. Now that he was closer, he was able to make out actual words over the rustling sound of a newspaper being fluffed out.

"Drop the pretenses already, Clarisse."

"What do mean?"

"Stop pretending you're interested in the news."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Come on, it's 10:00 on a Thursday night. The paper is from this morning. There's nothing in it that you don't already know. It's been a long day, the only one here is me. Who are you trying to impress?"

A chilly silence ensued. Philippe stifled a laugh. He and his brother Pierre had been on the receiving end of their mother's icy glares often enough to know exactly how she was looking at Joe. They had mastered the art of deflecting those glares with apparent carelessness and ease, and would never admit that, despite being fully grown adults, she had the power to make them tremble on the inside. The only other person they knew who appeared to be immune to her intense glowering was Joe, and he probably really was. When they first met him as young teenagers, they quickly realized the natural rapport between Clarisse and Joe had many intriguing side effects, one of them being the futility of their mother's quiet wrath against Joe's imperturbable demeanor.

As far as they were concerned, Joe Romero was one of the bravest men they knew.

"Here," Joe said, breaking into Clarisse's wordless rebuke. There was a flurry of newspaper noise again, and finally the sound of a tightly folded section smacking the table. "The crossword puzzle. You know that's what you were really after."

"I never said I didn't want the crossword puzzle, I just wanted to catch up on world events first."

"Ha!"

"You're insufferable." Philippe eased his head past the doorjamb to see his mother leaning over to the coffee table. She picked up the crossword puzzle and settled back into the sofa next to Joe, who was partially obscured by the sports section. Joe watched her with a bemused expression as she leaned forward again, moving the plate of cookies and the mugs of tea to look for something on the table; then she patted the pockets of her slacks. He released his hold on one side of the paper, reached into his shirt pocket, and pulled out a pen. He passed it to Clarisse, who only looked more irritated as she took it. "You're so smart," she muttered, crossing her knees to prop the puzzle up on her thigh. "What makes you think you know exactly what I want?"

A wicked gleam flashed into Joe's eyes. "Was that a rhetorical question, my queen? Or should I tell you all about how I know exactly what you want?"

His mother looked properly shocked, then her regal haughtiness vanished as her face slipped into a sly, sensual smile.

After years of observations and many analytical discussions, there were three things Philippe and Pierre had decided. First, there was more than ordinary friendship between their mother and her bodyguard, and had been forever. Second, nothing inappropriate had occurred while their father was alive.

The third thing, the princes agreed, had definitely happened, but when exactly, they couldn't say. They only knew that after one particular visit from Father Pierre (which meant for all practical purposes he wasn't a prince anymore), the brothers had the shared impression of having spent the evening with - not their mother and her employee, or even their mother and a longtime friend - but rather an old married couple.

Their father had loved his sons in his own way, and they loved him back. They also knew their parents had loved each other in a way. But Joe - more physically present than King Rupert, more emotionally accessible, and lots of fun - had played an important role in the princes' lives. And they knew Joe loved their mother like she had never had the chance to be loved before. To see Clarisse and Joe together, even if it had to be in secret, made Pierre and Philippe very happy.

None of that meant he wanted to hear whatever was about to come next in their exchange. Definitely time to make his presence known.

"Isn't it a little late for people your age to still be up?"

The couple on the couch startled, which delighted Philippe. It wasn't often he surprised Joe.

"Hello, darling, how are you?" asked his mother, putting her hand out for him to take it in an affectionate squeeze. She was seated a respectable distance from her companion, but the faint trace of a blush gave her away. The unflappable Joe smiled pleasantly and gave away nothing.

Philippe took Clarisse's hand and bent forward to kiss her cheek. "I am well enough, but I will be better if you share some of those cookies with me."

Clarisse patted the empty cushion next to her. "Have a seat and help yourself."

Joe spoke up as Philippe sat down and reached for the plate of cookies. "Not so fast, Your Highness. Perhaps Her Majesty doesn't mind sharing, but I'm a little offended by the age comment."

Philippe laughed and sat back with the cookies. "I was only teasing. Anyway, out of all of us, I'm the one who's up past his bedtime."

Clarisse raised her eyebrows in question. "I thought the meeting wasn't until noon."

"It's not," Philippe said through a mouthful of cookie. "But the ambassadors of France and Spain want to get together earlier to discuss the trade agreement over breakfast. That's why I stopped by. I figured I won't see you in the morning."

"Why not? Philippe, you can come see me before you leave."

Philippe's eyes widened innocently. "Really? Alright then, we're leaving at 5:30 so I'll check in with you just before?"

"Then again, you'll only be gone two days. I'll see you soon enough."

Philippe chuckled and Joe looked over at them, his eyes twinkling. "That's what I thought."

"But I do love you, of course."

"Of course, Mama, I know." He stood up, and seemed to be completely unaware of his mother's disparaging gaze as he brushed cookie crumbs off his lap onto the floor. "Sure you don't want to come along? It could be fun."

"No, thank you. I've had my share of pre-summit breakfast meetings. Now it's your turn. After all, another two months, and they'll officially all be yours."

Philippe gave a little grimace. Whether it was the prospect of the tedium he would endure for the next two days, or the reference to the upcoming coronation, she couldn't be sure. But as quickly as it surfaced, it was gone, replaced by a bright signature Philippe smile. "Fair enough, but should you change your mind…"

"I'll let you know."

"Isn't Motaz going to be there?" Joe asked.

"Yes. He's still out of town. He's going to come in from the other direction and meet me there. I feel like I should be there, too. Sort of part of my training. Refresher course in trade agreements."

"Sounds exciting."

Philippe rolled his eyes. "Yes, loads of fun, a laugh a minute. Maybe you'd like to come along, Joe."

"You know, I think your mother is all the excitement I can handle." He quickly put up a newspaper shield, but not in time to avoid being smacked on the arm with the crossword puzzle.

Philippe laughed, but stopped at the look on Clarisse's face. "Um, no comment." He leaned toward Clarisse for another kiss, and got one in return. "See you, Mama. And good night."

"Good night, my dearest."

Then he turned toward Joe and after the slightest hesitation, swooped down to plant a kiss on top of his head. "Take care of Mama while I'm gone," he said quietly as he hovered over the older man.

Joe was taken aback by the affectionate gesture, and it took him a moment to respond. "Always, Your Highness." He reached up to clasp Philippe's shoulder. "And you be careful."

Philippe grinned. "Where's the fun in that?" He moved away. "Thanks for sharing the cookies, old man."

"That was your mother, remember? I didn't think you should have them." Joe's expression was stern, but his eyes were suspiciously moist.

Philippe winked at them, then gave a little salute as he sauntered out the door.

Joe and Clarisse stared after him until the sound of his footsteps subsided. After that, they stared at each other.

"What do you suppose that was?" Clarisse asked, a little breathless.

"I'm not sure." Joe opened his mouth to say something else, closed it, and was quiet. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Do you suppose he was…" Joe trailed off.

"You mean, does he know…" Clarisse wasn't feeling any braver.

They stayed quiet for a long minute. Clarisse finally spoke up. "I think we have his blessing, Joseph," she said very softly.

"Well, that's one person," Joe replied teasingly, although his eyes and voice were saturated with emotion.

Clarisse shook her head. "Two. You know he and Pierre are always of the same mind. And if Philippe is alright with us -"

"- so is Pierre."

"Mm."

They sat pondering things for a little longer, their laps full of forgotten newspaper. Clarisse sought Joe's hand, and he smiled at her as he lifted her hand to his lips. Their hands dropped back down, but stayed entwined. In the solitude of the private library late at night, there were still cameras, and the palace was never fully asleep. For Joe and Clarisse, the simple gesture was equivalent to a brazen display of public affection.

At last, Joe stood up and pulled Clarisse with him. They dropped their respective sections of the newspaper to the coffee table. The mugs were empty and, thanks to Philippe, so was the plate.

"Well?" Joe asked.

"Well?" Clarisse prodded.

"I think the man who will soon be king said something about how we should be in bed."

"He did, although what he meant is probably different from what you're thinking."

"You're so smart. And just how do you know what I'm thinking?"

Clarisse chuckled. "Because it's what you're always thinking."

Joe grinned. "You have a point." He let go of Clarisse so he could place his hand on the small of her back and guide her out of the room. "In all fairness, thinking about it is often as far as we get," he remarked wistfully.

Suddenly, a flash of lightning lit up the sky outside the wide windows that offered a panoramic view of the gardens. Almost immediately after, thunder rumbled around the walls and shook the window panes.

"I didn't know it was supposed to storm," said Clarisse, staring out the windows as a blustery wind sprang up from nowhere and started whipping violently through the gardens.

"Didn't you? Your section had the weather forecast." A withering look that would have made most men cower only caused a mischievous smirk. "Yeah, I think it was supposed to start later, actually. Closer to midnight."

"Well, good, maybe it will be done and over with by the time Philippe takes off in the morning." Clarisse felt a strange tightening in her stomach that she couldn't explain.

Joe picked up on her nervousness. "I'm sure it will."

They turned away from the windows. Clarisse shivered slightly. Joe offered her his arm, which she took gratefully. "You know," she said nonchalantly, "I get rather anxious during thunderstorms."

"Oh?"

"It's true."

"What helps you through a storm?"

"Oh, I don't know. A cup of tea, maybe."

"You've already had that."

"So I have. Company is always nice."

"I was just going to turn in for the night, but," Joseph let out an exaggerated sigh, "if it will help, I can stay with you for a little while."

Clarisse looked at him with mock appreciation. "Would you, Joseph? That would be terribly kind. I don't want to keep you though. If you're tired -"

"No, no, not tired." The corners of his mouth curled up in a sinful smile. "Not tired at all, actually."

"Well, in that case…"

They walked back leisurely to Clarisse's suite as the first large drops of rain began to fall.

 _The End_


End file.
